Watching from Afar
by Renesmeewhodat
Summary: NEW MOON AU BEGINS POST CATATONIC BELLA: Isabella Dwyer, known for her borderline-pornographic movies, was found dead in her hotel room at age 27. Backtracking 10 years, she was a high school girl who found a new way to cope with the heartbreak. She thought he moved on, but Edward was watching and wondering how his sweet Bella became the sexual fiend he saw on screen.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: I've yet to work out an exact schedule but expect regular updates. This chapter is a flash forward to headlines of "the incident." Next chapters will take off from after Edward's departure in New Moon. Thanks for reading and hope you stick around.**

* * *

Friday, March 13, 2015 11:53 AM

 **Isabella Dwyer Dead at Age 27**

American actress, Isabella Dwyer, was found dead in her London hotel room early this morning by hotel staff. The cause of death is yet to be confirmed. Local officials suspect foul play.

The news comes via an announcement from a family spokesperson.

As previously reported, Dwyer was scheduled to promote her newest film, _Dex 4: Ultimatum_ on _Good Morning Britain._

Isabella Dwyer became a household name in 2010 with the release of _Dex: Renegades_ which opened to a whopping $129 million in North America and went on to earn $650 million worldwide. Critics and audiences alike praised her sensuous performance as Reina Shay, a glamour model who gets pulled into a posthumous mission to protect mankind.

Darren Reilly, Dwyer's costar and rumored boyfriend, has yet to make a public statement on the tragedy.

* * *

Saturday, March 14, 2015 2:00 PM

 **Hotel Staff Reveals Details on Isabella Dwyer's Death**

Two staff members, who asked to be kept anonymous, spoke with _Los Angeles Times_ about the details of the crime scene.

Events unfolded on Thursday when Dwyer checked in to her hotel room on the eighteenth floor at approximately 10:00 PM and requested a wake-up call at 5:00 the following morning for her television appearance. The front desk reported that Dwyer was visibly tired from jet lag but displayed no suspicious or concerning behavior.

Staff adhered to her instructions and made the first call at exactly 5:00 AM. Dwyer did not respond, and staff made an additional three wake-up calls. The front desk sent a housekeeper to knock on Dwyer's door. Unsure of how to handle the situation, the housekeeper let herself into Dwyer's room and discovered the body.

Dwyer's limp body was laying in bed with her legs slumped over the edge. Her upper half was heavily bruised and battered.

The unnamed housekeeper sought comfort from coworkers and rushed to the front desk where authorities were called.

* * *

Saturday, March 21, 2015 8:00 AM

 **Isabella Dwyer Cause of Death Confirmed**

According to the Dwyer's official death certificate, the beautiful _Dex_ star died of asphyxia, including strangulation.

Still without a suspect, the case continues to baffle authorities as they review surveillance camera footage. The hotel room door and balcony show no evidence of tampering. Investigators are hesitant to release information.

Online communities have resorted to drawing their own misguided conclusions. A petition blaming alleged boyfriend, Darren Reilly, has been in circulation. Reilly, who was conducting a press conference in Germany at the time of the incident, has not spoken publicly since Dwyer's death.

Others have brought Dwyer's estranged father, Charles Swan, into question. "She never talked about him and even went so far as to change her last name. There's obviously something there," one commenter wrote.

Investigators advise against pointing fingers until there is substantial evidence of foul play.

Fans have been quick to notice that Isabella Dwyer is the newest addition to the notorious 27 Club.


	2. The Beginning

**Author's Note: From this point on, updates will come every Wednesday. Future chapters will also be longer since I'll have an entire week. I admit, this chapter was rushed because I hated leaving this story as just three vague headlines. I got a few PMs with guesses on how Bella died and who killed her. Love the theories, but nobody has gotten it yet!**

* * *

 **January 2006**

"Alright," Charlie sighed as he pulled out the chair next to him at the kitchen table, "It's time for you to spend some time with your mother. I'm worried about you, kid."

"Wha-," I stammered, only managing a cut off groan. Charlie eyes dart towards the chair to subtly force me into it. I stumbled into the wooden seat, not having the energy to put up a fight.

"This behavior...it's not normal. So many hours locked up in your bedroom, not eating a real meal or getting actual sleep. I never know what you're thinking, and you've completely cut yourself off. Maybe some sun and time with your mother will be good for you. She's dying to have you back. You're clearly not happy here," Charlie drawled uncomfortably, fingers fumbling with a clean napkin he found on the table.

"No," I began to protest, but he was partially right. I am not happy here, but would I really be happy if I wasn't here? Jacksonville may be bright and lively, but I have a natural talent for turning any place into my own comfortable hellhole. At least here, I can look at the spots he once stood and build the illusion that he never left.

Forks was all I had left of him. it was the only reminder that the time with him was _real_. That was the last thing Charlie wanted to hear right now.

"Bella," he sighed, "it was your mom's idea. You know that I love having you here but lately you haven't been...well _you._ " He turned his head to the landline by the kitchen sink. "When's the last time you called your mother or, you know, answered one of her calls? Might change your mind after talking to her. Some girl talk for a change. You always had a special connection with her."

"I don't want to," I fretted, my mind immediately jumping to the moment I first told her about _him_ and how excited she got over my sudden interest in a boy.

"A two minute call. That's all I ask."

"But what would I tell her?"

A consoling line formed between Charlie's eyebrows, "I don't know. I guess you tell her whatever it is you haven't been telling me. I'll dial. All you have to do is keep your ear on the receiver."

"Hmph. My fingers aren't the problem."

"Can you blame me for trying to lighten the mood? Is there anyone else you'd like to call from Phoenix? Maybe an old friend or something since you seemed to enjoy your time there so much."

 _Old friend_...I did have a few numbers from Phoenix jotted down in a notebook somewhere but never got around to actually calling them. If they gave a damn about me, they have my number too so it cuts two ways, not that I blame them for avoiding me. Even if — by some miracle — they was someone from Phoenix who wanted to reconnect, there'd be too much to cover. They'd ask how I've been been, what I've been doing here, and who I've been hanging out with. I would rather pull Jessica or Lauren into the room and hope for them to endlessly yammer about their boy troubles.

That's it.

"But I like my friends here. Yeah I miss some people from Phoenix, but we've spread apart. Jessica and I are going shopping in Seattle tonight. Maybe I'll ask her what she thinks about me going to live with mom." The lies flowed out terrifyingly easy.

"Shopping with Jessica?" he reiterated with the corner of his mouth tilted in doubt. "You hate shopping. Why the sudden plans?"

"She asked me to help pick out her prom dress." Perfect. Now he won't be suspicious if I come home empty handed.

He mumbled, "Alright then. Talk to her and think it through. Just, can you promise me that you'll call your mother tonight?"

"Promise," I assured with a forced a smile. "I should pick her up soon. Store closes at seven." He nodded and watched me head out the front door with the keys to the truck hanging out of my coat pocket.

Did Charlie really believe my stupid lie? Hopefully he didn't notice my jittery legs or how I struggled to open the my own car door. He was probably watching me through the living room window, but I could not bring myself to verify.

 _Don't look back or you'll crack. Don't look back or you'll crack. Don't look back or you'll crack._

Out of Charlie's sight, the drive to Seattle was easy, logistically, but maintaining focus on the road was an uphill battle. I briefly deliberated over driving somewhere else or turning around and telling Charlie the truth, but one would only buy me a one-way ticket to Jacksonville and the other made me feel more guilty than I already was. I lied about Jessica coming with me so the least I could do was maintain honesty about where I was going.

My truck trudged through the narrow Seattle streets. I lost track of how many stoplights I drove through and avoided eye contact with the passers-by on the crosswalks. The obnoxious hum of my engine was amplified by the cold weather and garnered much attention. Seemingly on every block, college aged kids filled the sidewalks, immune to the below freezing temperatures, meanwhile my arms shivered with the truck's heat on full blast.

The miserable joyride killed twenty minutes by circling around dress shops, restaurants, and parks. Twenty minutes was enough to wipe me out. I caught myself swerving into another lane and had to pull over and take a breather.

 _I could have died._ _I could have killed someone else_. And for what? Because I was too much of wreck to leave my car. My body sunk into the steering wheel, and for the first time since the day _he_ left, tears trickled down my cheeks. I rubbed my eyes with stiff, icy fingers and reached down for my cell phone. There had to be someone on my contacts who I could trust to pick me up and not tell Charlie.

The Blacks were definitely out of the picture. My stomach dropped at the thought of Billy coming over for dinner and telling Charlie all about the night he picked up his crying daughter on the side of the road. There were no secrets between Billy and my dad. His son was a nice kid though, but was Jacob even old enough to have a license? Probably not.

It was hard to believe that anyone from school would be willing to come. I was not worth their time nor did I deserve it. Just imagine it from their perspective: the girl who sits alone at lunch and barely speaks to you for months suddenly rises from the dead to ask for a favor. It didn't take someone like Alice, _sweet, sisterly Alice,_ to know that they would outright reject me.

Time for my last resort: hot, bitter caffeine.

I stepped out, grabbed several quarters to insert into the parking meter, and walked right into the quaint coffee shop across the street. The store was dimly lit, but even so, it was still brighter inside than it was out there. There could not have been more than ten people in the shop, including the two employees cleaning equipment behind the counter.

"Sorry, just one moment," the petite, soft-spoken girl shot from the register.

I plainly nodded.

She casually wrapped up whatever she was doing and directed her attention to me, "Thanks for being patient. So what will it be?"

"Large coffee please."

"Room for milk?"

"No thanks." Personally, coffee doesn't have the same effect when it's not bitter. I handed her a five to speed up the process. She glared and sourily completed the transaction before reverting back to her perky, customer service facade for next guy in line.

Large black coffee in hand, I plodded past customers hidden behind their laptops and located an empty table near the window. I lifted the lid of the paper cup to feel the piping hot steam clash against my rosy cheeks. Fingers softly grasped the bottom lining of the cup, and all concentration was on taking slow, careful sips.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?" a husky voice spoke from behind me. I turned away from the window to see a auburn haired boy in jeans and open jacket with a Newton-ish smile plastered onto his face.

"No," I responded honestly without even considering what he was really asking. The boy took that as his invitation and pulled out the chair other to join me. He set his book and coffee cup on the table and appeared as if he was about to speak. I'll admit, I was in no mood to strike up a conversation nor did I have the drive to, but there was something about the company of another person that made me feel warm inside.

"Black coffee?" the boy commented while nodding at my cup and tilting his own. "I heard you order and thought you had a nice, sweet sounding voice and excellent taste in coffee."

"Can't drink it sweetened," I answered in a neutral tone.

"I feel that. It gets rid of the true flavor. If it's good coffee, it doesn't need anything in it, and frankly this here is the best coffee in Seattle. Trust me, I tried everything before midterms last month," he chuckled at his own joke, and his fingers anxiously tapped against his book. You go to school around here?"

"No."

He was oddly persistent in getting answers out of me and only slightly taken aback by my indifference."Thought so. I know I'd remember you if I saw you here before. So what brings you here then?"

"I drove here."

"...So did I but...I'm Jack. What's your name?"

The stranger, who now had a name attached, leaned in closer to me. Rather than move back, I used an entirely new approach to distance myself from him. "My name's Christine," I lied through my teeth in an uncharacteristically high pitch, as if this different name actually did make me a different person.

"That's a pretty name."

"Thanks! I was named after my mom. I'm actually on my way to visit her but had to stop here and take a break from all that driving. Traveling here was a pain in the neck, but we barely talked last semester so I'm hoping a surprise visit might make up for that," I enthusiastically carried on, spilling out pages of false information.

"That's cute. I'm sure she'll love that. How long have you been driving?"

"I go to the University of Montana." My lips pursed together and hummed to buy time to calculate, "It took me about eight hours to get from there to here." That seemed about right. Hopefully Jack doesn't know anybody who's actually a student there, but on second thought, it wouldn't matter. We would say our goodbyes in a few short minutes.

"Eight hours? You really did need the caffeine. Here I am, just giving in to a craving. I go to the University of Washington so coming here is a walk in the park. Literally actually, I walked through one park to get here," he snorted, gazed out the window, and pointed towards what I assumed was the park.

I laughed in a girlish way that resembled Lauren when Tyler makes a light joke, not insincere but definitely exaggerated. Most of the sound was consciously stemming from the bridge of my nose, and I even went so far as to cover my mouth to not show too much teeth.

I got a strange high off of painting myself as Christine. My eyes surveyed the room in search of something to talk about that would keep him here longer and eventually set on his book, "What are you reading there?"

" _Dex_ ," Jack sheepishly replied, "but I swear, it's not what you think. I know most people think it's just for horny guys, and I used to think that too, but I borrowed my friend's copy just to see what all the fuss is about, and it's actually really good and addicting."

 _Dex_ must have gotten popular in the last four months or so, because I've never heard of it before in my life.

"Sure, of course. I know tons of frat boys who read _Dex_ for the plot," I playfully teased.

Jack's chuckled matched mine, and his face turned crimson. With a deep inhale, he pressed further, "Frat boys huh? I don't suppose you're dating one of them?"

Time for a clean break. "Yeah, going on three months," I murmured, taking the high road out.

"Damn. Well in that case, sorry to bother you. Hope it works out for you two," he intoned with just a hint of frustration. He stood up, straightened his jacket, and modestly carried himself out the front door.

Good. No harm done.

With only inches off lukewarm coffee left in my cup, I took one last gulp and returned to my truck with fifteen minutes on the meter to spare. Though I was in a much better state than before, both physically and emotionally, I did not want to spend any more time in Seattle than necessary.

My mood collapsed the moment I stepped into the driver's seat, a tangible, painful reality check.

 _You are not Christine, the outgoing college student, girlfriend of a frat boy, and adoring daughter. You are Bella. You are so wrapped up in yourself that nobody in your high school wants to speak to you or cares enough to try. You push away the only loved ones you have left and refuse to call your own mother even when she has desperately tried to reach out. You're nothing, Bella Swan._

The sound of the keys in the ignition offset those horribly familiar thoughts. _Nothing. Nothing. Nothing._ The word swarmed around my head as I drove home. It was the word that kept me from sleeping and overran my nightmares. It was the word that perfectly summed up Bella Swan.

"Bella, I don't want you anymore," _his_ voice jetted into my subconscious, and it stung, because it made far more sense than him loving me.

It hit me, and my jaw dropped. That's why it was so easy to speak as Christine. She wasn't tied down to _Bella Swan_. She gave me the creative freedom to not be... _me_. I must have been pretty good at it too for Jack to be interested enough to ask if I had a boyfriend.

Admittedly, the thought of saying "no" and leading him on longer did cross my mind, but that would have been cruel. Feigning interest in someone just for your own entertainment is a shitty thing to do. Especially when the other person falls in love with you and then you just abandon them without warning and make it as if you never existed, but it will never be like you never existed because you left such a mark on the other person tha-

And now, I was not just angry with myself for being _nothing_ but with him for making me believe I was more than that. He made me love him, and despite all, that unconditional love persists. I would still give everything I have just to hear that velvet voice and be in his arms again. It's an unbearable pain that I would not wish on anyone else — like Jack.

Everything I told Jack was a lie but we'll both move on with our lives. Besides, it was for the better. If Jack is looking for a girlfriend then he was looking in the wrong direction. I can barely handle friendly relationships much less romantic ones. I'm not entirely sure if I'll be able to love someone again. Not as much as I love _him_.

But hey, that's just Bella speaking.

The truck turned into the driveway, making a large thump as I accidentally swerved a bit too late and hit a part of the curb. The light from the living room window was visible from outside the house. Charlie was probably in his recliner watching ESPN. I paused at the front doorstep, collecting my thoughts and de-stressing with deep breaths. Lying to Jack was entertainment, but lying to Charlie was betrayal.

"Hey, Bells," he rapidly shot from the living room the moment he heard the squeak of the door. "How was shopping?"

"Same old, same old," I replied, walking towards him. He muted the television which I took as my cue to sit on the couch.

He sat up with his elbows tense on the arms of the recliner, "Glad you got the chance to go out. I didn't know you and Jessica were close."

"We've gotten closer in the last few months. It's hard to hang out outside of school since she's in a lot clubs." I had to force myself to stop there for fear that Charlie would be suspicious of my constant derailing. He seemed satisfied with what I gave him.

"Listen, I know you don't want to talk about this so I'll make it short. Did you ask Jessica about Jacksonville?"

"Yeah, and she was pretty upset. I made a lot of good friends here. She also brought up a bunch of points that I didn't think of before," I sighed, hoping my responses sounded natural. "Look dad, I know you think it will help, but I graduate in five months. Switching schools and having to make new friends would be far more stressful."

"Well it was your mom's idea," he half jokingly retorted. "You should know, she called twice while you were out. I told her that you went shopping, and she doesn't believe me."

"I'll go upstairs and call her back now," I exclaimed, taking off before turning around halfway up the stairs. "Oh! And Jessica has a this unbelievably long list of dress shops she wants to visit before she finally chooses. I'll have to suffer through it."


	3. Changing

Monday, March 23, 2015 11:02 AM

 **Father of Isabella Dwyer Asks for Privacy**

After ten days of silence, Charles Swan, biological father of Isabella Dwyer, spoke to reporters outside of his home in Forks, Washington about his daughter's unexpected death.

"We just don't understand," said Swan in reference to his ex-wife, Renee Dwyer. "We don't know anything that you don't already know. I first heard about it from the morning news and I called her to confirm. And then...I'm given almost no time to process before millions of reporters came hounding at my door. Be respectful. We're grieving. We're angry."

Swan is currently on administrative leave from his position as chief of police in the town of Forks, Washington.

Friends of Isabella Dwyer claim that Dwyer and her father had not made contact in nearly a decade. Her funeral service is set to take place on Wednesday in Jacksonville Florida.

* * *

 **January 2006**

I rubbed my heavy, dry eyes while walking out of the cafeteria and into the girl's bathroom. The water from the faucet being splashed in my face did nothing to lessen their puffiness and only irritated them further. I gazed up to see my reflection in the mirror and saw the expected dark circles, drooped corners of the mouth, and pale, weary complexion.

Last night was exhausting.

It began with a phone call to Renee that lasted nearly an hour but could have easily been cut down to ten minutes if it weren't for her stalling. She opened the conversation with updates on Phil's career and then moved on to home decor. My mind drifted off sometime during the _feng shui_ arc but found it's way back with a jolt when she suggested that I move to Jacksonville to "help remodel the kitchen." She accepted my refusal but her dubious tone suggested that I could expect another call tonight.

I made sure to end the call on a high note. The "everything is okay" front was much easier to pull off with her than Charlie since she hadn't seen me these past few months.

With that out of the way, I sunk into my sheets and fantasized about a life without _Bella,_ mainly focused on a girl identical to my physical self, minus the vacant eyes and hunched shoulders. She exuded femininity with poised confidence and longer, silkier hair.

My imagination ran rampant until it was interrupted by the buzz of my alarm clock.

And here I stood, leaning in closer to the girl's bathroom mirror to get a better look at the consequences of my all-nighter. Two sophomores barged in and the room suddenly felt congested. I waited for them to close their stall doors before charging out the door.

The only empty table in the cafeteria was in the back corner. The whole student body knew it was mine, because it used to be _theirs._

Some familiar faces sat one table over. Jessica sat in between Lauren and Angela, bridging the gap between them. Ben constantly nudged Angela and spat inside jokes. Mike and Tyler joined the group with their chests nonchalantly puffed out. Their conversation made no sense to me, but they all looked happy. Must be nice.

Lauren inched closer to Tyler and spoke to him in a hushed tone, her laugh as girlish as ever. I'd like to say my attempt at it with Jack last night was pretty spot on. Tyler eagerly carried on flirting as if the other seats at the table were empty.

I was never Lauren's biggest fan, but she did have some admirable qualities. Her demeanor made others hesitant to approach her but feel honored when she spoke to them. There was a certain provocative aura surrounding her that drew people in. It was coy, slightly intimidating, and something I wanted to replicate.

Jessica and Angela had some equally desirable traits. Though not as popular with boys, Jessica's outgoing personality and charismatic flair made her seem like the group's ringleader. Angela didn't project the same air of confidence as the other two, but that didn't bother her. She was content with what she had: good grades, good family, good friends, and an adoring boyfriend.

Over the past few months, Jessica and Angela checked in with me from time to time but rarely received more than a nod. Jessica always followed up her "heartfelt" speeches by surveying the room, probably to make sure people saw and appreciated how much Jessica Stanley cared about the poor, depressed girl. Angela, however, was discreet about it and offered me undeserved love and attention.

Took her months to catch on.

Angela bounced in her chair when the bell rang and briefly made eye contact with me. No wave, or smile. She buoyantly exited the cafeteria, light on her feet without me weighing on her mind.

My legs operated on autopilot and carried me to calculus. Ms. Hanks cringed at the sight of my head resting on the cold desk but said nothing. Literature and home-ec went by painlessly, both having substitutes thanks to a teacher's conference. I was comfortably napping on Charlie's couch in no time.

Charlie typically left work at six, so my alarm clock went off at 5:55 as to not clue him in on my accidental all-nighter. When he opened the front door, I was sitting at the kitchen table with a calculus textbook and spiral notebook staged in front of me.

"Hey," he hesitated, pleasantly surprised to not find me in my room. He stepped into the kitchen, and the smell of the hot pizza in his arms made me nauseous. "Lots of homework tonight, Bells?"

"Not exactly homework. Just reviewing for midterms."

He set the pizza in front of me and went to grab a cold drink, using the refrigerator door to hide his satisfied grin.

"Sausage and peppers?" I asked, reading the side of the pizza box.

"The other half is plain for you. Billy likes sausage and peppers. I invited him over tonight, but if you need quiet study time then I'll tell him to come tomorrow instead."

"No worries. I was about to head upstairs anyway."

His voice crack, a little saddened, "You sure? I can't promise that we'll mute the TV and whisper to ESPN."

"I was going to listen to music anyway."

Charlie bobbed his head in understanding and left to change out of his police uniform. For his peace of mind, I grabbed a plain slice and forced it down, even though my stomach wanted to kill me for it. A serious loss of appetite led me to lose a noticeable amount of weight evident from loose clothes and the ache from un-cushioned chairs.

Billy came in with his son, Jacob, but I was already sitting in bed, decoy earbuds popped in and input plug tucked under the book in my lap. Jacob orotund voiced carried, specifically asking for me.

"She's home but...don't push it. She's had a good streak recently. Going out with friends, studying, and whatnot," my dad tremulously mused.

"Just a quick hello," Jacob insisted.

"She'll come down if she's ready," he snapped back, voice still softened to a whisper. "She's stubborn that way. You can't make her do anything."

The conversation shifted away from me and onto the upcoming game tonight. Laughter accompanied by the clanging of keys against beer bottles reverberated through the house. Jacob idly participated in the town gossip as it was hard to get a word in with those two around. Billy had much to say about his growing son, sometimes complaining and bragging about him in the same breathe. Charlie endlessly commented on how tall and huge Jacob got. When the voices got real low, I knew they were talking about me.

"And she can't hear us?" Billy stammered.

"No," Charlie assured, "She puts her music on way too loud." That _was_ true during junior year.

Billy's tone relaxed, "So she's doing better you said?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where to go from here. Now that she's started to pick herself back up again, I feel uneasy around her. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad things have turned around. Thrilled. I'm just worried that one wrong move and it's back to square one."

The bottles of Rainier leaked out of Charlie's slowed speech.

"Before I was just happy to hear full sentences or watch her eat something other than bread or Pop-Tarts. In my mind, she could only go up from there. Now it's like, she's climbing up, but I don't know if she's strong enough to keep herself up."

"But she's going up," Jacob chimed in, seemingly to reassure both my dad and himself.

"Exactly," Charlie agreed with an audible sip. "I just have to give that stubborn kid some space and trust that she'll tell me what she needs to get better. There's no telling her what to do. Months of practically begging her to spend time with friends, and she does nothing. Leave her alone and she instantly has a booming social circle."

Jacob grumbled, "Booming social circle?"

"Exaggerating, but she did spend the night out in Seattle with a friend. Drove all the way there and back in your build, Jacob."

They redirected their focus to my truck and Jacob's skills as a mechanic.

 **~ WFA ~**

Those two days were the precedent for the remainder of my winter.

Classmates and former friends left me to my own devices. Jessica, Angela, and Lauren regularly sat within earshot during lunch, sharing their weekend plans and war stories. I meticulously followed their exchanges and the table reactions to gather the well-received stories for later use.

My persona took the shape of their best traits, mannerisms, and quirks. Weekly road trips "with friends" meant a new alias in a new coffee shop with a new stranger. Jessica's funny stories blended well with Lauren's flirtatious vibes, but Angela's strong eye contact and personal questions were crucial in making my subject feel that he was the only one in the room.

Those nights made it easy to forget _him..._ and myself.

In between those nights, my scars were not healed, but the cuts _he_ made did not have the same lasting effect they once did. The nightmares ceased after my second coffee shop run, and I became too preoccupied with making mental notes about my peers to grieve. Boring Bella still went to school and moped at home, but she ate three meals and answered her mom's calls.

I emailed Mrs. Newton to humor Charlie, and she was pleased to hear that I was ready to work in the camping supplies store again. Mike's shifts frequently overlapped with mine, prompting awkward conversations, but I led to Charlie to believe that we were close.

In my dad's eyes, I was making tremendous progress. Between work, school, and alleged time out with friends, he rarely saw me in the house and only had my fabricated stories to go off of. They no longer left a bad taste in my mouth because he was so happy to believe them.

My grades were high enough to stay afloat and be on track to graduate, but no post-graduation plans were made. Slim chance that any school would want a girl with "just passing" grades and no extra-curriculars. Charlie approached the subject of college applications with extreme caution, usually by making a blanket statement about education and waiting for my reaction. Eventually I had enough of him tip-toeing around and promised to find a community college.

"It won't be like high school, you know. It's a chance to start over and be what you want to be," he ensured.

That was exactly the plan, and my alter-ego was evidently college-ready.

Jessica's extroverted personality landed her the opportunity to be our graduation speaker and rightly so. The first draft of her commencement speech was written in September. Granted it was a terrible, rough draft, but half a year of stressing over it did it justice. Jessica seemed to be on winning streak because soon after that she was accepted by the University of Michigan. Angela settled for Washington State University and miraculously Ben also decided on our state school.

Lauren was adverse to the idea of "more school than necessary" and had comedically high hopes of being swept off her feet by a Hollywood stud She planned on living with her aunt in her Los Angeles apartment.

A week before the ceremony, Mike, Jessica, and Tyler were chattering at their usual table.

"Don't you think we should? It's the last time we can?" Tyler stuttered, insecurely scratching the back of his head.

Jessica looked deep in thought, "Like just us or a huge thing?"

"Well if we go through with La Push then we'll have to keep it small," Tyler settled, "So you guys, Angela, Ben, Eric, and obviously Lauren. Anyone else you think we should invite?"

Mike shook his head, "I know she's already having a goodbye dinner with Rebecca and that group, so this could just be our thing." The other two agreed.

"I'll tell Angela about it during calculus," Jessica beamed and separated from the group.

The following lunch period was spent working out travel plans to La Push on the Friday after graduation. Jessica urged the group to "Go big" and "give Lauren the time of her life" but was eased down by Angela, the realist.

"Nobody has the time to plan something huge," Angela sympathetically let out, "and _you_ are going to be caught up with the graduation committee."

Jessica beat around the bush, "Right but...maybe...hear me out. We'll graduate on Wednesday and I'll be with my family on Thursday. You don't have any special plans until Saturday so you could use Thursday to go through this shopping list." Her index finger pranced around the bulleted list of party goods on the table.

Jessica brought up the list on a daily base leading up to the day we put on our caps and gowns. Surprise surprise, there were no takers.

The ceremony itself was uneventful. Jessica made her speech, and Tyler made soft jabs at her, tone quiet enough to only be heard by the graduating class of 2006. The reading of my name was met with a dull applause that Angela singularly attempted to heighten from her seat.

Caps were thrown, and Charlie paved his way through the crowd, his eyes glossy with tears and lips formed a light smile.

"You did it, kid," he mewled with an arm over my shoulder. "It was rough, but I'm glad you did it here."

"And not with strange Floridians," I begrudgingly added.

He chuckled, "The Floridians can see you another day. I missed too many milestones to let them take you now. But...looks like someone else wants to take you though."

The was a delicate tap on my shoulder, and I turned to see Angela gingerly waving her camera. She snapped a quick picture of the two of us with Charlie out of frame as he was kind enough to give the two "best friends" some space. We exchanged congratulations and uncomfortable glances before she ran back to Ben's side.

Charlie reappeared, "You two have plans tonight?"

"No. I...uh...thought you'd want just the two of us to go out for dinner."

His jaw dropped on the verge of protest, considered encouraging me to go out and have fun with friends but he stopped and gave me two pats on the back. "I'd like that."

Renee called after dinner to warm me up to the idea of Florida State College at Jacksonville. I promised to "sleep on it" and, of course, my phone incessantly rang the next morning. She dreaded another year without me, and judging from the array of pamphlets for Washington colleges left on my nightstand, Charlie did too.

No longer bound to _him_ , I didn't know what I wanted.

Friday afternoon, I woke up to the creak of my bedroom door opening. "Hey Bells," Charlie stiffly leaned against the doorframe, "I'm off duty tonight. You want to go out for dinner in Port Angeles? We can check out Peninsula College while we're there."

"No thanks. Jessica invited me to a goodbye party for Lauren."

"Oh, some other time then." He closed my door and trudged down the stairs with unusually loud footsteps.

The sky was approaching twilight as my quarters slid into the Seattle parking meter. My focus was entirely on performing. I wore a black shirt bought last week in Port Townsend, tight around the waist with a lacy neckline that was complemented by a push-up bra.

 _Maybe Kate tonight? Or something with more of a kick, like Vivian or Ivy?_

I aimlessly walked through a park and got caught in a mixed group of college students. "Are you here for the meetup?" a short and stubby girl in pigtails asked?

But what kind of meetup? From a superficial level, I could fit into this group of about thirty people standing around and making idle chit-chat, but my character needed more depth.

I squinted and tilted my head, "I'm not sure…"

"Cal Anderson Park film major meetup," she cleared up.

"Oh good! Sorry I'm not from around here and got a little lost."

The girl, Hannah, took my hand and introduced Kate Grimes, Northwestern University sophomore to the group. It was a night of networking, eating, and commiserating.

My truck parked in the driveway at about two in morning. The living room light near the window reflected off my windshield, and I couldn't help but get a sinking feeling in my stomach.

Inside, Charlie sat in his armchair, wide awake. "How was the party with Jessica?"

"Good," I murmured, toes pointing towards the stairs.

He spoke in a monotone, "Interesting, because you weren't with Jessica."

The keys in my hand fell to the hard floor.

The reaction was involuntary. There had to be a way around this. Tell him about my last-minute change of plans. Went out with Angela, a classmate he never met, or a fake person? But this was not the same Charlie that welcomed my lies with open arms. His face withheld emotion, retaining it all in a single, clenched fist. Both of my knees were on the brink of giving out, and l latched on to the arm of the couch for support. He watched and waited.

"Dad, I–"

"Sit."

I embedded myself into the couch corner furthest from his armchair. Both shoes propped up on the cushions and hands twisted by my ankles. When the squirming and rustling stopped, Charlie continued. He wanted me to hear every word.

"You'll have your time to talk after I'm done but I want the truth, about tonight, about the last year. Everything."

I nodded, unsure if I could give him that much.

"After you went off to wherever the hell you just came from, Harry invited me over for a beer with some friends from the reservation. Jacob and his friends were going in and out, said they found your _friends_ on the beach."

There was a bitter emphasis on the last part.

"I asked Jacob if he got the chance to say 'hi' to you there. How do you think that went? I didn't want to believe what he said since those _are_ the friends you spend so many weekends with. I got angry with him and had to go see for myself."

My arms tightened around my knees. I wanted to smother myself with the couch cushions, while at the same time, already felt suffocated by the walls of the room.

"Newton was in the parking lot, taking pizza out of his car when he saw the police cruiser. He said you weren't with them and got the Stanley girl to leave the beach for a friendly talk. I asked her about all those trips you and her took together."

He leaned in with a harsh, emotional hook on my eyes. "Now Bella, can you tell me what you think her answer was?"

The room would have been absolutely silent if not for my fingernails scraping against the fabric of the couch.

"Bella?" his mouth barely moved. Everything else was unrelentingly still.

"It was...I um…a..." The words couldn't connect.

"I already know the truth. You didn't go to La Push and haven't talked to Jessica since that thing happened. I just want to hear it from you to end this cycle you started _."_

 _That thing? This cycle?_

His speech faltered on those words.

Under the police guise was a heartbroken father who didn't want to remember _that thing either,_ and we were so close to getting past it. Charlie had not brought _his_ name up in months. There was no need to. He was far happier asking questions about dinner with Jessica, and Mike Newton arm wrestling a janitor. I looked "normal" when I told those stories.

His chin dipped to his chest in what could only be disappointment, in me for taking advantage of his trust, or himself for not realizing it sooner.

My heart did not want to go through the motions anymore, not if it meant hurting Charlie and remembering _him_. To simply stop beating wouldn't be enough. It needed to disappear, take every vein with it, and let me continue as a lifeless doll to dull the pain.

A hand frantically waved in front of my face.

"Bella! Bella!" Charlie bawled, now out of the armchair and crouching on the living room carpet. I turned my head to get a direct view of his terror-stricken face, eyes ready to jump out of their sockets.

The hand pulled away in alarm and moved to his chest as he caught his breath.

"You sort of lost it there," he wheezed, cop composure completely gone. "I called your name and tried to get your attention, but it was like you weren't here."

"Sorry." My arms reached to wrap around my knees which were oddly tilted to the side rather than where I left them, as if they just fell on their own.

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh, and with a sympathetic pat on the knee, he joined me on the couch. Bit by bit, his breathing slowed to a normal pace. Neither of us knew where to go from here or what to say to one another.

Still in deep thought, Charlie broke the silence, "Not much changed since Edward first left."

Not a question but an affirmation. It seemed so private, as though half of him was trying to convince the other half. Had his attention been directed towards me, he would have noticed the wince at _his_ name.

"Bella, now I know where we stand." One hand consolingly rested on my back. "You should go to bed now, but we're not done. First thing tomorrow morning. I'll be here."

I slid under the my sheets and lied face down in a pillow until I heard the screech of the front door opening. On the other side of the bedroom window was Charlie, standing near the driveway and dialing a number on his cell phone. If he was trying to be secretive, he should have considered things like open windows first.

"Yeah she's home...Around two o'clock...Yeah do me a favor and tell Jacob that I'm sorry for lashing out on him...I just didn't think she would do that...I don't want to but looks like there's no other option. She did that thing again today...I was waving my hand at her and calling her name over and over again but no reaction...It was brief but still….She's in bed. Looked real exhausted especially after that happened...I'm going to have to give Renee a call in the morning...Thanks...And please, really do tell Jacob that I'm sorry. I'll do it in person too next time I see him...Thanks. Night."

Well, all my act did was prolong the inevitable. Renee would answer the call and hop on the first plane to Seattle. I was no longer welcomed in Forks. Renee would be on high alert with a pathological liar in the house. I'd have to continue on as Bella. There was no escape.

A stupid idea crossed my mind. Crazy stupid.

Charlie audibly came back in through the front door and headed to his room. I sat on my bed, allotting him a reasonable amount of time to fall into a deep sleep before dialing a number buried deep in my notebook.

"Lauren, I know it's late but...do you have room for one more?"

* * *

 **Author's Note: So I promised updates every Wednesday and broke that promise the first chance I got. Whoops. Hopefully I won't let that happen again.**


	4. Los Angeles

1\. [+50, -6] Lay off let her rest in peace! I prayed for you Isabella and told my grandma that a new angel is with her in heaven

2\. [+37, -4] I binge watched all the Dex movies on Netflix and it doesn't feel the same

3\. [+33, -13] It seems like so many have forgotten that she was a human too. Have some respect.

4\. [+15, -1] why do people think it's so weird that she didn't talk to her dad? Hey if I was flashing my tits on the cover of Maxim I wouldn't talk to my dad either

5\. [+15, -6] Wishing her family the best. How terrible it must be to not know what happened to your own daughter?

6\. [+13, -3] Honestly, I'm only a casual fan of Dex but my boyfriend is obsessed. Because of him, I read the books and watched all of the movies in theaters. I didn't know much about her personal life until after she died, but I loved seeing her on Jimmy Kimmel. Seemed like the type of girl I'd be friends with.

7\. [+12, -19] Anyone who thinks she committed suicide should try strangling themself and see how that works out

8\. [+1, -56] what will i fap to now? RIP

9\. [+2, -62] Look on the bright side. Now she will never have to worry about typecasting after Dex promos wrap up

* * *

 **August 2006**

"There are bleach stains on your ass," Lauren giggled on her bar stool.

"Oh shit!," I cringed, turning my head back to the palm-sized orange blotches on both cheeks.

She nearly spat out the french fry in her mouth. "Looks like _someone_ was busy. Was it pretty boy over there?" she asked, peering over my shoulder to gawk at my coworker walking into the kitchen.

"No, and you know Harry's gay."

"I thought maybe he slapped your ass as a friend."

I chuckled, shaking my head, "Sounds like something Harry would do but nope. I bleached the soda station floors last night and must have gotten some on my hands." My server apron was always tightly tied around my waist and incidentally caused my shirt to ride up. Note to self, wash hands before adjusting the back of your shirt.

"A classic Bella move," Lauren wagged her finger.

"You think anyone else noticed?"

"Positive. The all-black uniform really brings it to life in a nightmare-ish way. "

"Shit," I groaned, my body slumped back against the bar, planting itself into the corner. For once, I was thankful that the place was quiet during the lunch hours.

"That's what you get for rushing out. It would have only taken a second to say 'good morning' to me. I would have immediately told you to change out of those pants."

"I overslept and had to grab the first pair I saw."

"Yesterday's clothes," she blurted out.

I shrugged, admitting fault.

"Eh, we've all been there." Lauren cleared the last french fry off her plate and grabbed a napkin to blot the ketchup off her lips. She lifted the half-filled glass of water and dangled it in front of my eyes like a pendulum. Her voice shot up in a singsong tone, "I got you!" Lauren chugged what was left and neatly stacked the glass and napkin on top of her cleared plate.

"You should teach the other customers," I teased while collecting the contents in front of her.

"Of course," she replied with tremendous sarcasm, "Wouldn't want you to do any heavy lifting."

I speedily carried the plate to dish, keeping my backside turned away from the dishwasher and expo chef. No mistake went unnoted, and my list could likely lap the building once or twice. They were still giving me grief about the lipstick smeared on my cheek last Friday. Fortunately, Harry was close at hand today and would rush to my defense. The kitchen staff wouldn't dare talk back to the boss's son. Hell, if it weren't for my instant friendship with Harry, I probably would have been thrown out after the first week of training.

"You keep me on my toes," he'd tell me whenever I lost pens or left large chunks of food in dish. Meanwhile the dishwasher wanted my head on a platter.

I safely fled out the swinging doors and found Lauren unexpectedly waiting by the hostess stand. "Here's the fifteen," she sputtered, handing me some crumpled up bills from her breast pocket, "Didn't think it was already three o'clock." Her skirt eloquently rose as she spun to the door.

A disembodied voice spoke from behind, "I was beginning to think she forgot she had a job." I turned to see Harry using the dull reflection on the lunch special board as a mirror. "Or got fired before her lunch break. But she looked far too chipper for that."

"We've both been a little out of sorts recently," I mewled, holding in a yawn.

"Well I angelically waited for her to leave so I could have my turn with you," he bubbled while playfully tugging at my wrist over the hostess stand.

"Oh really? Anything special?" I prodded with an equally embellished tone.

"I need advice." He released me and his sturdy arms crossed at his chest.

"I'm listening."

His mouth contemplatively twisted, "I met this guy recently, and he's got some unusual...fetishes."

Sex advice from me? That was a first. He'd been curious about my relationship history since our first shift together, and I recently made the willful decision to start opening up. My explanations were vague but still honest nonetheless. There was the Kevin who kissed me on the lips when we were thirteen, Will from sophomore year geometry, and the summer-long fling with an unnamed boyfriend who broke my heart. Harry mockingly feigned a heart attack at the first mention of the word "virgin".

I wobbled on the balls of my feet, "Harry, I'm flattered that you trust me for help, but I don't have any experience with that kind of stuff."

"Course you do. Someone's been rubbing bleach all over your ass. Pretty kinky." He broke into laughter and ogled at the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"I knew there was a catch!" I squealed, giving him a lighthearted slap on the back. Not a customer in sight to scold me for being too loud. "And these stains are from doing _your_ side job last night. You're welcome."

"Thanks again for that," he flashed back an amicable grin. "As promised, I'll take care of your side job now."

"Sweet. See you tomorrow?"

"Mhm," he hummed, flashing two symmetric dimples under his cheekbones. He'd make a more believable high schooler than his actual age of twenty-two with that baby-face, and not to mention the sexual frustration.

As per my usual Monday routine, I took care of my report, clocked out, and walked to the bus stop across the street. In less than twenty minutes, I unlocked the apartment on the second floor and greeted Lauren's aunt, Mel, in the living room. She sat on the floor with a spread of possible wedding venues scattered around her and carried on with minimal conversation between us. The crinkling of pamphlets on the floor made oddly comforting white noise for my afternoon nap on the couch beside her.

I met her only two months ago when I called Lauren as a last resort. She overheard me begging Lauren to take me out of Forks, and much to Lauren's dismay, Mel agreed to bring me along on their drive to Los Angeles. She parked a block away from my house and quietly threw my duffel bag into her trunk before Charlie woke up.

"I was a rebellious little one," Mel confided to me while Lauren was asleep in the car, "I didn't know what I wanted to do after high school. My mom was distraught when I was not accepted into her school of choice. My dad made me feel guilty for wanting to move out. Lauren's mom, my sister, is about twenty years older than me and felt more like a third parent."

Mel asked few questions about my situation, but surely Lauren provided some brilliant insight before I hopped into the back seat. "I tried community college," she continued on, staring blankly at the road, "Hated the classes. People like us don't thrive in school or desk jobs. But can't say I regret trying it since that was where I met my fiance, Mark. We moved to LA about eight years ago to be closer to his family and haven't looked back."

At my request, Mel dialed Renee's number at a rest stop payphone and assured her that I was safe.

I covered the cost of gas to show my gratitude, and the rest of my paychecks went to Mel's rent and various other necessary expenses, including the cheapest cell phone imaginable to keep in touch with Renee. Needless to say, Renee wasn't a fan of the whole "run away to Los Angeles at sunrise" ordeal, but she did like Mel and Lauren.

Lauren and I were both lucky enough to find jobs within a week of hunting. I settle in Caprese, a casual bar and restaurant, and she worked a mere two blocks as a hotel front desk clerk. We formed an unintentional bond. Maybe it was the forced time spent together or the shared stress over customer service. Or maybe it was because I was becoming her. She had commented on my shift in personality but, like her Aunt Mel, concluded that we were both women who grew up in the wrong place with the wrong people. This was who I was meant to be, and I'll be damned if someone pulls me back down.

My fingers convulsed at the mere thought of punching in Charlie's number. He'd have to live with the message Renee gave him: Bella's an adult, and if there is cause for concern, you'll be notified.

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

My head rose from the arm of the couch. Charlie must have been looking for me, interrogating Renee over the phone, and asking everyone in town about me. He's here. He's–

"Bella?" Mel placed a lax hand on my shoulder and hunched over, "You can sleep in my bed if you want." Without a moment of hesitation, she trotted towards the front door and let Mark inside. She kissed her husband-to-be and grabbed one of the many grocery bags in his arms.

This was the downside to having the dinner shift off: being a burden. Though I was "always welcome" to join them for dinner, the couple obviously wanted some privacy. Wouldn't be too much longer. Lauren and I had our sights set on an apartment within walking distance of Caprese and the hotel.

After Mark and Mel retreated to their bedroom, I grabbed a microwave dinner and pulled up a chair at the table. Lauren soon join in, more than happy to point out that I was still wearing _those_ pants.

 **September 2008**

Perfect. 9:00 AM. No need to rush or stall.

Arms fully stretched up and out, sending tingling sensations to my head. My body rose, overly conscious of every rustle of fabric and floor creak as to not disturb Lauren in the next room. With our apartment's paper thin walls, we could have just bought a studio and hung towels from the ceiling for privacy. I slipped on a pair of sleek, black pants that Mel bought last September for my twentieth birthday. It paired well with the form fitting V-neck at the top of my clean laundry pile. I sat over my bed covers to apply a touch of makeup and pull my hair back into the mandatory ponytail. With a granola bar in one hand, I locked the front door behind me with the other and began the ten minute walk to Caprese.

"You missed quite a night! Beef burgers were 86'd. How the fuck does that happen?" Harry ranted as I passed by to throw out the granola bar wrapper. He seemed to be taking out his anger on our silverware, clean forks being violently thrown into their respective bins. "Like, I get it. There's a lot of food to keep track of but c'mon!"

"Make do with what you can't control," I casually added while drying beverage cups for the soda station.

"That's exactly what I did! When I got home to the apartment that _I_ control, vodka was not 86'd."

I snickered, "It might be now."

"You might be right," His mood instantly brightened, "but speaking of which, you'll be twenty-one next week. Got any first drink plans?"

"You ask as if we weren't playing a John Hughes drinking game in my apartment just last week," I innocuously snapped.

"Oh sweet, soft Bella. When you're twenty-one, you don't have to wait for Molly Ringwald to roll her eyes," he beamed. His arms exaggeratingly flailed like a toddler being denied sweets. "Want the grand, LA bar tour, Washington girl?"

"I'll make a plan," I promised, but we both knew that was a white lie. His stubbornness paralleled mine, and I set out to arrange the salt and pepper shakers, seeing as neither one of us would give in. I'd never be Harry's bar hopping buddy. Drinking wasn't my thing. Everything he made me try was disgusting. Even the fancy brands were just a step up from gargling acid. At least the drinking games were somewhat enjoyable because they added an objective: watch the movie from start to end without throwing up.

Just as all the tables were set, two men and a woman walked through the front door and requested a booth. They were dressed to the nines, the men in navy suits and the woman in a lavender blouse and waist to knee length skirt. The hostess led them into the corner furthest from the entrance.

"They're yours. I sense some deep pockets," Harry sang, chin dipped down with a sudden smirk. "New shirt?"

My fingers self-consciously fumbled at the hem, "Is it that bad?"

"Sexy. Can I fix it up?"

"Fix how?"

He roughly pulled me closer. "It accentuates those nice curves," he shot in with a wink and savagely stretched the neckline to reveal more cleavage. He reached under my admittedly undersized bra and chastely palmed both breasts, fluffing them up like pillows until he got to the nip-slip danger zone. "Show these off, will ya?"

"You really think this is okay? They look older than my parents," I choked.

He gently patted my chest, "I've seen you put those on display more times than I can count."

"Yeah for the young and drunk, and I'm way more subtle," I panted, taking a double take at the booth. "Those guys look like a stock photo tha–"

I made accidental eye contact with one of the men and had to cut myself off. Harry gave one last look of encouragement that ended with an eyebrow wiggle. I anxiously approached the table with inhumanly straight posture, unable to hear the restaurant's music over my own heartbeat.

"Good afternoon. My name is Bella and I'll be your server." All three of them maintained a look as black the fabric digging into my breasts. I swallowed, "Can I start you off with anything to drink?"

"Water," three voices simultaneously responded.

The sizzling of whispers could be overhead from my spot in the soda station. I tried to make sense of them in between filling glasses but got nothing. My neckline was irreparable, scandalously stretched out, and ended right above my areolae . The closest I got to a solution was to clip it in the back but that made nasty, careless wrinkles.

I brought their water. Silence. I asked for their order. Three grilled salmon salads. I brought their food. Silence.

But the whispers resumed the moment I walked away.

I stormed into the kitchen. "Thanks, Harry," I bawled, "They hate me, and I'm probably not getting tipped." I stood uncomfortably close to the point where it would be impossible to brush me off.

His gaze drifted up from his notebook, and I could see the wheels turning in his head as his pen tapped against his chin, "Huh, never thought of you as the self conscious type."

"...self conscious?" I murmured and gulped to get that nostalgic aftertaste off of my tongue. He looked down at me with one eyebrow raised. "Are you even listening to me?" I uttered, refocusing my words to hit him from directly under the chin.

"Yup," his expression unchanged. My words must have missed his brain. Either that or they were too weak to get through to him. He began to move away.

"It's your fault! Do something!" Harry frustrated me to the core. My eyes were sweating from his mental exercises.

He stopped mid stride and stared, eyes softened and shifted downward. I closed my eyes in shame but felt his warm fingertips come in contact with my cheeks as he pulled a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers then lightly trickled down both my cheeks. I opened my eyes only to realize that his hands were at his sides and running down my cheeks were fresh tears. All I could manage was a slight nod.

"I'm sorry." He latched onto my wrist and gently led me out of the nosy dishwasher's earshot. "You've been doing everything right. I can't imagine that they won't tip just because of your cleavage." A understatement considering I looked like I just pulled an all-nighter at the Playboy Mansion. "But if you don't get tipped, I'll give you twenty percent of their check. We cool?" He wiped away the tears under my eyes with a napkin.

I sighed, "I don't know…" It wasn't solely about the money.

"Just see what happens when they get the check," he winked and gave me a pat on the head.

I stalked towards their table, ashamed to stand in front of them once again, but the woman hand signaled for the check before I could reach them. I carried out her request, returning with the check in a mere thirty seconds, and immediately turned back around as to not disturb them.

"Bella," a gravelly voice spoke from behind.

I swung back around, head tilted to the side. The man on the left opened the check, placed a hundred dollar bill, closed it, and slid it to the end of the table. "Thank you," I stuttered in utter shock.

The woman opened her mouth, "Do you have any experience acting?"

 _Acting_. That came out of left field. I considered myself to be a brilliant actress though I didn't have any experience. Not the kind that you could stick in a resume.

"No professional experience but it is a passion of mine," I answered with my hands folded at my stomach.

"I'm a casting director for a local project," she continued, "I'll leave you my card. You have traits similar to the character we are currently casting. Please give me call and perhaps, if you're interested, we can schedule a reading."

The three of them gathered their belongings and headed towards the door. I felt a moral obligation to open it for them considering the over fifty percent tip.

Harry was already collecting their water cups when I arrived back at the table. "Ellen Sali, the casting director," he curiously read off the card which oddly did not include the name of the organization she worked for, "You gonna make the call?"

"Eavesdrop much?" I jokingly reprimanded.

"Only because I care. You made bank today too," he smiled, awfully proud of himself. "So back to what I asked before."

I shook my head, "Not calling her. It's definitely porn."

"Definitely," he agreed.

 **September 2008**

 **Alice's POV**

Jasper's lips graced mine, and a familiar rush of calm flowed through me. My fingertips traced the curve of his arms that pulled me closer into his chest. With full awareness that Emmett and Rosalie were watching, I pulled away, catching a quick glimpse of his darkened eyes. He knew what I had to say.

"Tonight," he responded from the concern I projected onto him.

"Mmm," I hummed, unconvinced. "A deer might be nice to hold you over."

"There's won't be many students on campus," he assured. Cornell's fall semester did start awfully late this year and Jasper's eyes weren't near black to the point of urgency.

Rosalie exaggeratingly cleared her throat, briskly strolled out the front door, and slid into the driver's seat of her Mercedes. It was probably the thing she missed most while on her most recent honeymoon.

Jasper planted one last kiss on my forehead, joining Rosalie with the unspoken understanding that I'd reach out if his future were to drastically change.

Last I had seen, the night would progress smoothly. Rosalie and Emmett would sit in the front seats of the Mercedes with Jasper tagging along in the back. Esme awaited their arrival in the student welcome center. Carlisle would show them around campus, ecstatic to see Rosalie and Emmett for the first time since last summer. They'd mingle with professors and staff members but none would come within dangerous proximity.

Suddenly, the vision changed.

"Emmett," I muttered.

He stood next to me, arms folded and looking out the front window in deep thought. Rosalie pulled out of the driveway with Jasper in tow but Emmett's eerie silence persisted.

"I see that you decided against going out."

He nodded.

Jasper's altered future was no more a threat than it's precedent. I was about to change course and examine my brother when he interrupted.

"Still no news from the prodigal son?" Emmett asked, voice gruff and a bit strained. The question was borderline rhetorical.

"Same old, same old," I replied, drawing out a large exhale and wishing there was a different truth to offer him.

There was a sense of trepidation in the air. Emmett was overtly still, words hanging on the tip of his lips. He furtively glanced out the window, noting my BMW parked alone in the driveway, and took an unnecessary breathe. "Do me a solid please...Can you check on her?"

"You heard what Edward said about that," I gasped.

"He can't stop you all the way from god-knows-where."

"His mate. His decision."

His forehead puckered and a sly smiles crossed his lips, "That's where we disagree. Edward chose to make her a part of this family."

" _Sister_ is far below _mate_ on the hierarchy."

"Would you say the same if Carlisle suddenly forced Esme to leave this family and live on her own?"

"Well if…" I searched for an answer that was as moral as it was logical. "No. Because we're mother and daughter." The idea alone of Esme leaving was distressing.

"That's still below mate." He held one finger up to point out the flaw in my rationale. "Don't use Edward as an excuse. You get a say in this, as do I. If you don't check up on her here, I will, in person."

My head started spinning. "Emmett! Edward will kill you if he heard you say that. And what about Rosalie? She's been rather vocal about her support of Edward's decision."

"Rosalie would stand by me."

"Oh really?" I scoffed.

"Yes really," he spat with his fist about to pound the wall beside us. "Rosalie and I want Bella to live the best goddamn life a little human can have, but without her, this family looks like hell. You know, we delayed coming home several times just because we didn't want to deal with you."

My eyes widened in both hurt and rage. "Me?"

"No!" he backtracked, waving his hands to erase the words from his mental chalkboard. "Not you specifically. The family's depression is pretty contagious. Rose and I managed to pull ourselves away from it while we were on our honeymoon but coming back, we realized that the plague is still as strong as ever."

"But don't you think seeing her again will strengthen it?" I countered.

"No. Not if she's happy. This family is paying a heavy price for keeping her human. If I got to Forks and see an older and happier Bella, living a normal life, then it's worth it."

"And you won't change her?"

"Not my objective. I don't even plan on interacting with her at all. I just want to see her," he clarified. "I want to come back home and tell everyone in this family that she's changed her major for the sixth time and got so drunk that she forgot how to hold a fork, because that's what you do when you're twenty.

"I wouldn't know," I sneered. "I didn't get that far."

"Don't stall," he accused. I frowned and turned away to do exactly that.

"If you won't do it," Emmett called after me, "You leave me no choice."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Finally got to squeeze in some Cullen action! Much more to come from them.**


End file.
